


Buffalo Bill

by reggie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reggie/pseuds/reggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevor has a great plan to make a little cash to spend, this summer. He and Joey are going to boost that big, shiny, black car from the two dudes staying at the motel his mother manages, and then sell it. He has it all planned. The men are harmless, pansy-ass antiquers, so it's not like it'll be risky. It'll be just like stealing candy from a baby...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buffalo Bill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Septembers_coda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Septembers_coda/gifts).



[ ](http://s1345.photobucket.com/user/fanficstuff1/media/Banners/Sinful%20Desire%20banners/Impalabannersample_zpsbc6f1418.jpg.html)

Joey and Trevor were holed up in the broken down old treehouse out the back of Trevor's equally broken down old house, which was attached to the Cozy Cabin Motor Lodge that Trevor's mother managed. They were passing the joint they'd filched from the stash that Mr Abercrombie thought no one knew about, even though pretty much everyone knew the guy was a grade A stoner, and his house was incredibly easy to sneak into when the man was high. Trevor had a great idea and he needed Joey to have enough of a buzz going so he wouldn't flip out before he could share his plans. Both Joey and Trevor were what pretty much anyone would consider dirt poor, and while the other guys from school had money enough to go out and have fun, he and Joey had to find ways to amuse themselves, or steal stuff they could pawn in the next town over to get them a little cash. It wasn't ideal, but it worked for them.

Trevor's dad had run off years ago with some skank he worked with, leaving Trevor and his mom high and dry without two pennies to rub together. They had almost found themselves out on the streets when his mom wasn't able to pay the rent. They were lucky, he supposed, that his mom managed to land a job managing the cabins, and their accommodation in the old run down house that also served as a front office came with the job. It wasn't nearly as nice as the place they used to live before his deadbeat dad had left, but it was off the beaten track a little so it gave him lots of scope to get into mischief. His mom worked long hours and could barely keep track of where he was and the things he did, which suited him just fine. Joey's mom had gone from loser boyfriend to loser boyfriend until she gave up and took up with Johnny Walker instead, drinking paycheck pretty much within days of getting paid. It wasn't fair that other people had stuff, and they had to go without. Trevor saw himself as a modern day Robin Hood—steal from the rich (which was everybody who had more than them)—and give to the poor. So what if the poor happened to be him and Joey? He let out an amused snort, imagining Joey as Friar Tuck. He passed the joint back to his best friend, who raised an eyebrow at him laughing to himself.

Trevor had the perfect solution to get them through the summer, one where they could have some fun and make some serious cash as well, he just had to loosen Joey up a little bit more to get him to agree. The kid could be such a buzzkill at times, always worried about getting caught; but they' hadn't been caught yet, Trevor was too damn good a thief, and he was really good at planning.

"This summer's gonna suck ass," Joey said as he toked on the joint.

"Well, what would you say if I told you that you could take a drive in your dream wheels?"

"I'd say you already smoked to much of this shit, and your last two brain cells are having delusions," Joey laughed.

"I can make it happen, guaranteed."

Joey squinted through the haze of smoke, and then snorted, "Yeah right, and Santa Claus is real."

"What if I said you'll get to tool around in that big black hunk of metal you've been drooling over?"

That got Joey's attention and he sat up. "You mean that Impala? The one here at the motel? The one those two big guys are driving around town? What, are we just supposed to go up to two strangers and say, hey, mind if we borrow that sweet ride of yours? You must have been dropped on your head as a baby."

Trevor picked up an empty soda can from the mess on the floor of the treehouse and pitched it at Joey's head, getting an annoyed, "Hey!" when it bounced off his friend's cheek.

"No you moron, I mean we're gonna boost their wheels."

"Are you fucking insane?" The buzz Joey had had going suddenly clearing. "Apart from the fact that if those guys caught us they'd beat us into next week, if we get caught by the cops, that's grand theft auto, man. It's not like the bikes we've boosted, or the old junkers we joyride in and dump, or even the shoplifting. We could go to jail!"

"Don't be such a tool, Joey, we're barely sixteen, we wouldn't go to jail even if they caught us, which they won't, because I've been doing my homework. Those guys may be big, but they're pussies. My mom's talked to them. When they checked in, they were asking about the old Hamilton mansion. They're 'antiquers'." Trevor used air quotes to emphasize his meaning. "They said they're in town to buy a few bits of the shit the estate people are selling off. They even asked Mom if she knew the names of the locals they could talk to to get more information about the stuff that's been sold."

"You lost me. How does any of that stuff have to do with boosting their car?"

Trevor rolled his eyes. "Well for one, they're prolly gay if they're out buying antiques together, and when have you ever heard of gay people being violent? Plus, they must have money if they're wasting it on that kinda shit, so it's not like we'd be taking something from poor people like us."

"Huh? They don't look gay, they look kind of mean, and dude, the bigger guy, he's like six and a half feet tall!"

"The big dude was using words like provenance and shit when he was talking about all of that old junk. Who talks like that? Gay guys, that's who."

"I thought gay guys were supposed to dress all fashionable and shit."

"Stereotyping much?"

"Hey, you're the one that said they wouldn't get violent just because they're gay."

"Yeah, well, that's a stereotype for a reason, doofus. So can I fill you in on the plan, or are you pussying out already?" The shorter boy growled.

"It's still grand theft auto, and I'm too cute to go to prison," Joey said while pointing both thumbs at himself, which had Trevor flicking the almost dead joint at him and laughing as he batted away the embers that hit his shirt. "You asshole, this is my favorite shirt! Anyway, no joy ride is worth getting arrested, even if the car is amazingly sweet."

"Yeah well, there's more to my plan than a joyride, so are you gonna listen, or what?"

"Go on then, butthead, knock me out with your brilliance. But first, pass me another can of soda. And if you shake it up, I'm gonna push you outta this tree."

The boys got themselves comfortable, but Trevor could tell Joey didn't really think he was serious. He could still do this without Joey, but where was the fun in that? Joey was the one that basically creamed his pants every time they saw the car, Trevor was more interested in the money side of things. Still, they could have a blast driving the car out on the back roads before they had to hand it over.

"Those guys have been here three nights already, and they told Mom they'd most likely be checking out day after tomorrow; said they just had one more person to see and then they're done, but they can't see them til tomorrow night or something. So, if we do this, it's gotta be tomorrow morning. They've walked down to the diner for breakfast every morning they've been here, so it's a pretty good guess that's where they'll be tomorrow morning." Trevor could tell Joey was listening, but only barely, so he dropped the big reveal, the one he knew that would get Joey's undivided attention.

"Curtis said he'd give us a cool thousand if we give the car to him after we've had our fun with it."

"No, no, no, no! What are you doing spending time with that douchebag? You know he did time, don't you? He's bad news, my mom said—"  
"So what, you're a momma's boy now? She says everyone with a dick is bad news."

"Yeah well she has a point this time. The guy's a scary fucker."

"Meh, he's okay once you get to know him. So listen, yesterday I ran into him and bummed some smokes off him and we got to talking, I told him about the those guys and, I used your words, the cherry '67 Impala. Anyways, he told me that if we can boost it and get it out of town without being seen, he can take it to these guys he knows. He said he'd pay us a thousand bucks for it."

"It's worth a hell of a lot more than a thousand, man, it's a classic. He just wants us to do all the risky shit for him, and he's gonna make a huge profit!"

"Yeah, well he's taking the risk of offloading it to a buyer, and there's no risk to us. I have it all worked out, it'll be like taking candy from a baby. We can hide it in the barn at the old Rogers farm, that place has been abandoned for years. Plus, Chief Wiggum couldn't find his own ass if it was on fire."

"Man, if he hears you calling him that again, he's gonna start making shit up so he can bust your ass."

Trevor started doing impersonations of Sheriff Hillings which had both of them falling about with hysterical laughter. Theirs was a small town with only two cops, the sheriff, who was a bit of a town joke, and a wet behind the ears deputy, who looked like he'd blow over in a strong wind. With all of the stuff Trevor and Joey had stolen over the past couple of years, and the few rust buckets they'd boosted to joyride in, they hadn't once come close to being caught, and that was mainly down to the fact that the local sheriff wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. 

"Anyways, he's not gonna take the time to look for a stolen car while he's still chasing his tail over the body they found yesterday."

That thought sobered the boys up considerably. Greenville was a quiet and boring town where nothing interesting ever happened, at least, not until recently. Over the past month, people had reported all sorts of weird stuff happening, and rumors had started up about old man Hamilton haunting the town. Folks said he wasn't happy that all of his belongings were being sold off to the townsfolk, who he'd always looked down his nose at. It was all bullshit as far as Trevor was concerned, a few people who were clumsy, and too embarrassed to admit that they fell over, so they said they were pushed by an invisible force. Or a guy who said he was run off the road by a ghost, but was probably just too drunk off his ass to drive, and old lady Gilbert, who said something in her house was making all the lights flicker. The silly old cow just had electrical problems. 

All it took was one crazy rumor, and the whole town jumped on the 'haunted' bandwagon. But there was one thing that really was weird; a few days ago, Ellery James went missing. His wife said he would never have left her, but Trevor thought that Ellery had just done what his old man did, and ran off with some woman. That was until yesterday, when a realtor was walking a potential buyer around the land attached to the Hamilton house, and they found Ellery's body in the woods just behind the fence-line. Rumor had it that he was missing half of his face.

Trevor shook off the image and continued, "Like I said, those guys will be at the diner. Mom will be over at Marcie's until eleven, like always, because she can't make up any of the rooms until after check-out time. Those guys have the cabin right at the back, away from the road, because they said they wanted the quiet. They prolly just didn't want other people to hear them." He screwed up his nose. "The two cabins closest to them are empty, so nobody will hear or see anything. We wait for them to go to breakfast, snag the car, drive it out through the back gate and head straight over to the Rogers' farm. But we go via Anson road, and then take the dirt roads to the farm, that way nobody will see us at all. It'll take us maybe an hour to get there, so by the time those guys finish their waffles and discover their car is missing, we'll be long gone. You can drive the car all you want out there, there isn't a soul around for miles. You tell your mom you're staying at my house tonight and tomorrow night, and I'll tell Mom I'm staying over at yours tomorrow night. Curtis said he'll meet us out there just before lunchtime on Thursday to take the car. He said we can drive his car back home and park it out near the mill. We walk the two miles back into town and nobody is any the wiser. Curtis said the guy he's selling it to will pay him on delivery, and then we get our cut. Those antiquers are from out of town, they'll have jobs they have to get back to. They ain't going to stick around town just 'cause their car got boosted. They'll rent one to go home, and collect on the insurance. See, all planned out. So what do you say?"

Joey sat with his head down, his light blond hair falling into his eyes with his thinking face on; that's what he called it anyway, Trevor thought it looked more like he was constipated, but he sat quietly to give Joey time. He knew all the buttons to push to goad him into stuff, but he also knew that if he pushed at the wrong moment, Joey would back out completely. He was pretty sure he would be in, because the plan was flawless, and that wasn't just his high talkin. He'd been stealing shit for years, and with the exception of his English teacher, who was leery of him, everyone thought he was a good kid.

"So why isn't Curtis meeting us out at the farm tomorrow? I mean, why are we spending the night out there?"

"God, don't tell me you're scared," Trevor sneered and rolled his eyes. "He needs to be in town tomorrow where he can be see. You know, because of his record, he's gonna be the first person they think of, otherwise. It'll be fun, we can take sleeping bags, get wasted and make s'mores."

There was a full minute of silence until they heard the rumble of the Impala as it drove from the back cabin, past the yard and out the front entrance. Joey got a wistful look on his face from the sound and then he turned, his grin a mile wide. "I'm in."

Later that night, the two boys lay awake in Trevor's room, going over their plan and making sure they had food, drinks, and the bottle of booze Joey had swiped by convincing his mother that she'd already finished it when she was on a bender a few weeks ago. Both of them were too wired to go to sleep. At 2:a.m., both boys were beginning to think the men in cabin six had actually left early, because the car had been gone since before lunch, when they finally heard the low rumble of it returning. With the alarm set, they finally drifted into an exhausted sleep.

==========

Everything went off without a hitch, just as Trevor had planned. They were doing donuts in one of the empty fields of the abandoned farm, Joey whooping and hollering as he whipped the car in tight circles.  
"Man this car is so cool! I wish we could keep it," Joey lamented as they pulled into the late afternoon shade of the barn to eat some of the food they'd brought with them.

"Well, I wish they had some decent music. I've never even heard of half the bands in this box of tapes, and the other half is crap my uncle listens to, and he's like 45! Those guys have sucky taste in tunes, and seriously, cassette tapes? I thought a cool car would have a decent sound system."

"Hey, we should check the trunk, but you're gonna have to pop the lock. It seems such a shame to damage it, but there might be some cool shit in there."

"Not if their music collection is anything to go by," Trevor laughed.

After a few minutes of screwing around Trevor finally busted the lock of the trunk and stopped to do a little dance of victory. "I am the master!"

"You are!" Joey agreed with a grin.

The first thing they found was a large old army surplus duffle bag, which they ripped open and emptied onto the ground with glee until they found it contained what looked like a couple of weeks worth of dirty laundry. "Eeeuww, they must have been on a road trip or something to have all of this with them, that's a lot more than a few days worth of clothes."

"Oh, my God, check out the size of this shirt, it must belong to the gigantic one."

"Gross, Joey, I ain't touching any of it, their dirty underwear is in there." Trevor frowned and kicked aside a pile of clothes to get a better look. "Hey dude, that looks like blood." There was a T-shirt with a large spatter of dried blood across the front. "Oh, yuck!"

"Maybe one of them had a nose bleed, just don't touch it. What else is in the trunk?"

Inside were two suit bags neatly folded, a couple of shovels, a camping lantern, a gas can, a couple of old sleeping bags and some blankets and towels, and the usual spare tire, tire iron, jack and wheel brace. Except for the camping lantern, which Trevor was so having dibs on because it was way better than the crappy one he had brought with them, he was incredibly disappointed by the contents. "Who the hell carries two shovels around with them? Those guys are not only obviously boring, and have shit taste in music, they're fucking weird."

Joey looked at the sleeping bags and shrugged, "Maybe they're for camping, you know for digging fire-pits."

"What so they have a matching set? I told you—gay. I'm going to check the glove compartment, although it's probably filled with tissues and breath mints or something equally as boring."

On his way around the car Trevor stopped to grab a bottle of water out of his pack and Joey went to peer into the trunk for himself. "Hey Trev, something's not right here, man." Trevor looked up and raised a questioning eyebrow. "The trunk is too shallow for this model car."

Trevor got up, dusting his hands on his jeans and walked over. "What do you mean?"

"I know these cars, dude. I mean, Chevys are probably my favorite cars ever, and this is a '67 Impala. My uncle Stu taught me everything I know about cars, and he used to own an Impala. It was old and full of rust, but it was the same model. The trunk was way deeper than this. I think it has a false bottom."

Trevor's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "What? Why? Are you sure?"

Joey started pulling everything out of the trunk until it was empty and bent to grab the tire iron for leverage but realized there was nowhere to slip it in to pry it open. "Yeah, I'm sure, no freakin' way it's this shallow, these trunks are really big. Have you got your pocket knife? I need something thin to run around the edge."

The smaller boy handed over his knife and watched as his friend used it to prod at the edges until they heard a small click and Joey, whooped, "Eureka!" Once they had found the hidden latch it was very easy to pop it open. Neither quite knew what they were expecting to find in there but it certainly wasn't what they were confronted with.

"Shit!" both boys voiced in unison.

Joey picked up a shovel and used it to brace the top open. He had only ever seen a couple of guns in real life before, and they were mostly rifles local hunters and farmers used to kill predators that picked off livestock. This was an arsenal. There were handguns, a couple of sawed-offs, an actual freaking crossbow, boxes of cartridges, scary-assed knives and machetes, hatchets, and--holy shit, were those ninja-type throwing stars? "What the hell, man?" He looked over at Trevor, who was staring, slack-jawed, at the trunk's contents.

"Holy fuck, Joey. Who the hell are those guys?"

"I dunno dude. But this is a lot of weapons. This is like some sort of Bruce Willis, Die Hard stuff."

It took another minute before their brains registered anything other than the actual weapons, but then other items started penetrating their consciousness. The next thing Trevor noticed, after the metric shit ton of weapons, were the religious items. There were numerous rosaries, crucifixes and crosses, in various sizes, and even stranger items like the large bottles of water and—bags of salt? There were also what looked like wooden stakes. "Not Die Hard, dude, more like Underworld, or Buffy." He poked at the stakes with the tire iron. "This looks like stuff to kill vampires...except that vampires aren't real." his voice fell to almost a whisper.

"What's that?" Joey asked, pointing to a bundle stuffed into the corner, then using the tire iron to lift it. When the bundle fell open and revealed balled up, seriously blood stained clothing, Trevor scrambled backward and fell hard on his butt, not even thinking of teasing Joey, who had screamed like a girl.

"There's no way that's from a nosebleed, that's like buckets of blood. Oh shit, do you think that's who killed Ellery? Oh man, we've stolen the car of two freaking serial killers!" Trevor pointed to the crucifixes. "Two Satan worshiping serial killers! Oh God, they're gonna find us and they're gonna kill us and then they're gonna wear our skin like clothes!" Trevor watched as Joey's eyes got wider and his legs seemed to turn to jelly, and he fell with a thump to join Trevor on the hard-packed floor of the barn and began to hyperventilate. The only thing that stopped him from passing out was Trevor smacking him one, which made him breathe a bit better. "We're gonna die," he wheezed. 

After a few minutes of them both trying to get their breathing under control, Trevor shook his head. "No. No, we ain't gonna die," he said, with far more conviction than he felt. "They don't know who took their car, they don't know who we are or where we are. We just gotta think. I mean, if I was a serial killer and someone stole my wheels, I'd get the hell out of town. I mean, they're not gonna risk their secret being uncovered are they?" 

Joey shot him a withering look. "It'll make them look for us even harder. They're not gonna want to risk someone out there knowing what they are, knowing who they are! I should never have listened to you. You always talk me into shit. 'We'll have fun,' he says. Yeah right!" After his angry outburst, Joey seemed to deflate again, and he wrapped his arms around his knees and began to rock back and forth.  
Joey was right, it was his fault. The kid hadn't even stolen so much as the change from his mom's purse before Trevor had egged him on. And now, here they were with the arsenal of a couple of Devil worshipers who had already killed Ellery James, and now would be looking for them. He needed to think, but first he needed a huge gulp of the whiskey they'd brought with them, something to calm himself down. It took him three tries before he could unscrew the cap and he splashed a little down the front of his shirt trying to lift the bottle to his mouth because his hands were shaking like his grandpa's did before he died from Parkinson's disease. The first gulp burned the whole way down and made him cough so bad he nearly threw up, but the second made his hands shake less, so he crawled over to Joey, where he was quietly crying, and made him drink some too.

They couldn't stay here, but they couldn't go anywhere either. The last thing they needed was to be caught driving the car. All Trevor really wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed and pretend today never happened. But they were stuck here until that asshat Curtis came to pick them up. That was it!

"Hey Joey, let's put everything back."

"What do you mean?"

"We close up the hidden compartment, and put all of that other junk back on top like we never found it. Hell, we wouldn't have, if you didn't know these cars so well. We wait for Curtis and hand the car over. We don't gotta tell him anything."

"But what if he gets caught, by the cops or the killers? I thought he was your friend."

"Nah, he's not my friend, he's just an ex-con I know. You were right, he let us do all the risky stuff, so let's just let him take it. Anyway, he said he has a buyer out of state, and he was gonna take the car right to him. Curtis won't find the secret stash, he won't even look in the trunk if we just tell him it's filled with dirty laundry and old sleeping bags. Let the guy who's buying it deal with it. We can just go home tomorrow and pretend none of this happened."

Joey wiped his snotty nose on his sleeve but brightened up a little. "Yeah, okay. You know, these cars sell for twenty grand when they're in good condition, and they were only gonna give us a thousand. Let them deal with it."

"Let's put all of their stuff back in, get all our shit out and wipe down everything we've touched. I'm not even gonna keep the lantern."

The boys closed the hatch and piled everything back on top. The dirty clothes were all loose but neither of them wanted to touch everything enough to stuff it all back in the duffle. The trunk wouldn't stay closed because they'd popped the lock, but they found a piece of wire in the barn and managed to wire it shut. By the time they'd wiped everything down, they both fell exhausted onto their sleeping bags, trembling from the crash from the adrenaline dump. Trevor pulled his bag over to look inside, using the weak lantern light to find the spliff they'd brought with them. As tired as he was, he didn't think they'd get any sleep without it. He lit up and took a deep drag and passed it over to Joey, who hesitated.

"I dunno, man. I'm not sure if I want to do this shit anymore. I make bad decisions when I'm high."

"Yeah, I hear ya. I think this might be my last one too. I'm done with all of it. So we don't have money, I don't care anymore. I think maybe stealing shit isn't such a good idea."

"You think?" Joey snorted and snatched the joint, filling his lungs with as much smoke as he could. It might not be such a bad idea to have enough to chill out some, today was more excitement and fear than he ever wanted to deal with again.

After an hour or so, they had settled into quietness, both lost in their own thoughts, when the door to the barn opened and in strode the two men they had hoped they'd never have to see again, guns in hand.

Joey practically crab-walked until his back hit the wall of the barn and Trevor was frozen to the spot.

"Huh, you're the motel manager's kid," the tall one spoke, looking right at Trevor.

"Son of a bitch," spat out the other one, before they both lowered their guns and tucked them into the back of their waistbands, under their jackets.

The guy with the short hair ran his hand over the roof of the car and said, "Don't worry baby, I'm here now. We found you."

The freakishly tall guy rolled his eyes and said, "Do you two need a moment alone, Dean?"

"Shut up, Sam. You'll hurt her feelings."

Trevor was moving back toward Joey, inch by terrifying inch. God, they were going to die!

"You'd better not have damaged her," the shorter of the two, Dean, growled at them, making Trevor pull back his head which thumped into the wall, and Joey whimpered. "So, what are we going to do with our car thieves over here?"

The really tall guy, Sam, opened up the passenger door and clicked open the glove compartment. Trevor had forgotten all about that, he could see the guy pull out a couple of maps, what looked liked cards or something, and at least four different cell phones. His mouth fell open again without him even realizing it. 

"Great things, these modern day cell phones," Dean said with an amused tilt of his lips. God, the freak was smiling because he was going to kill them, and he was going to enjoy it! "They have GPS. You can track just about anything. It took a while to pinpoint this," He spoke as he gestured to the barn. "It's not exact, but it got us close enough to hunt you down. There's not a lot of places around here to hide a car. Had no idea it was you two, though."

"Everything's still here," Sam called out as he got back out of the car. Then he walked around to the trunk and Trevor's breath caught in his chest, and felt Joey tense up next to him. He fiddled around for a moment, and then opened the trunk and rooted around.

"Is she okay?" asked Dean, like the car was some sort of girl or something.

"We'll need to get a new lock, and they scratched the crap out of the paintwork popping it, but otherwise the car seems fine."

"You scratched up my car!" Dean shouted, and Joey started crying with big heaving sobs, saying, "Please don't kill us, please don't kill us." 

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take you apart with my bare hands?" Dean roared. Joey was almost choking on snot, and Trevor felt his insides start to liquify just as he noticed the smell, the acrid scent of urine. Joey had pissed himself. Trevor didn't think he was too far behind doing the same thing.

"Uh, Dean?"

"What?!"

"Can you come over here for a second?"

"Why, what the hell did they do?" He shouted as he stomped over to where Sam was standing behind the open trunk of the car. Trevor grabbed hold of Joey's hand and held on for dear life. Would the cops even find their bodies? Would they be all cut up like Ellery's, or would they be chopped into little pieces and buried on this old abandoned farm with their mothers never knowing what happened to them? He couldn't hear what they were saying, only the tone of their voices. Dean still sounded really pissed, but that Sam guy sounded like he was calming him down. It seemed like they were talking together forever, probably trying to figure out the best way of disposing of their bodies. Trevor was crying almost as hard as Joey by the time both men walked back to the passenger side to grab something. Sam threw them a box of tissues from out of the car.

"Hey, come on now. You're okay."

Dean got something out of the glove compartment and approached them, making them both push themselves harder against the rough wood of the barn wall. He had what looked like leather wallets in his hand. He flipped them open making Trevor flinch until he made out the letters through the blurriness of his tears - FBI.

"Y...you're feds?"

"Yep." Dean made a popping sound with the P. "We're here undercover working on a case, or at least we were until you two bozos stole our car."

"So you're not going to kill us?"

"Nah, although I should kick your asses for damaging my car, not to mention the whole stealing it thing," Dean said, still sounding sort of pissed.

"Are you gonna arrest us?" Joey asked in a small voice.

"Well, we should," Sam answered, "But we might still have to come back in on the job, and that would blow our cover. If we take you home and forget about about this, you're going to be able to keep this quiet aren't you? If you blow our cover we will come back and arrest you, you understand?"

Both boys nodded their heads so vigorously, Trevor thought he felt something in his brain shake loose.

"You're not Satan worshiping serial killers?" Joey asked, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Trevor.

Dean chuckled as Sam explained, "We have to carry all sorts of stuff to infiltrate different things, it's part of the whole undercover thing."

"But who killed Ellery?" Trevor asked. "Someone tried to peel off his skin so they could wear him like a coat." 

"That's the guy they found in the woods, yeah?" Dean asked and Sam nodded. "No one killed him and no one tried to wear him, okay? Lemme guess, your favorite movie is Silence of the Lambs?" Trevor nodded shakily. "Well this ain't a horror movie, kid. He was taken over to the next county for an autopsy. It looks like he fell and broke his neck while he was climbing the fence."

"But, they said half his face was gone." Joey blanched as Trevor spoke.

"Probably a coyote. He was already dead, kid. Come on, get your stuff and we'll take you home. This better be the last time you think about stealing a car, if we hear you've done it again, it won't just be the cops you'll have to deal with, it'll be the FBI."

Joey and Trevor stood on shaking legs and began to gather their stuff together. "You're not a gay couple either, are you?" Joey asked shakily while he was glaring at Trevor.

Dean threw his hands in the air. "Why does everyone think we're gay? I tell you, Sammy, it's your stupid hair!"

Trevor looked at Joey sheepishly, and shrugged. When they'd packed up their bags and were ready to go, Dean looked pointedly at Joey's crotch and said to Sam, "I'll take Chuckles over here, and you can take Betsy Wetsy in the loaner."

Joey turned redder than the time his mother found his stash of Playboys.

"Nice, Dean." Sam gave him a bitchy look.

"What? I'm just looking out for the upholstery." Dean shrugged.

==========

Trevor couldn't believe it when the men dropped them at home and said they weren't even going to tell their mothers what they had done, that the fewer people who knew they were undercover, the better. He and Joey really had dodged a bullet. Sam and Dean said they'd finished up on their case—even though they'd never told them what they were investigating—and they were leaving right away. They were halfway back to their big black Impala when Trevor elbowed Joey and said quietly, "Man, we could really pull chicks with this story."

Joey glared at him, and Sam stopped mid-stride. He'd obviously heard Trevor and his stupidly big mouth. Sam walked back to them, pulled Trevor to the side and leaned down and whispered into his ear. Joey watched as all the color drained from his face and he swallowed hard and nodded. Sam gave Joey a little half salute and jogged to catch up with Dean, who said something, and when Sam answered, Dean laughed out loud. Joey watched as they drove away in the car of his dreams...that he hoped he'd never see again. He turned back to say that very thing to Trevor, who was still ghostly pale.

"You're not really going to tell this story to pick up chicks, are you? I don't want to get in trouble with the feds, and they seemed really cool."

"No way, man, I'm not telling a soul, and neither are you."

"But you just said...What the hell did he say to you, dude?"

"Forget it. We don't tell anyone. Ever. Let's just pretend we never even saw that stupid car." Trevor strode to the back stairs that led directly to his room, so Joey just shook his head and followed him.

Despite all the fear and excitement over the last twelve hours, Joey babbled for half an hour about how cool it would be to be an FBI agent. Trevor stayed uncharacteristically quiet. Joey drifted off to sleep, but Trevor was still lying awake hours later, listening to the soft snores coming from the twin bed, and knew without a doubt, neither of them was ever stealing another God damned thing. Dean had been loud and angry and had scared the living shit out of him, but he couldn't get Sam's soft, deep voice out of his head and shuddered when he thought of the last words he'd said to him. "You keep quiet about what you found in the car. You don't talk about us to pick up chicks, you don't talk about us to anyone. You keep your nose clean from now on, no more boosting cars or we'll be back. Remember Buffalo Bill. It puts the lotion on its skin, or it gets the hose. Do you get what I'm saying?" 

Trevor shuddered. Nope, he was going to be a model citizen from now on. He never wanted to risk seeing Sam and Dean and that stupid big black car ever again. No one was gonna be wearing his skin.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> The title, Buffalo Bill, and the line Sam speaks to Trevor regarding lotion on the skin, is in reference to the serial-killer character from Silence of the Lambs.
> 
> Hopefully this will break my writer's block.


End file.
